


Hiding out in the back.

by Xenadd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Drunken Mistakes, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenadd/pseuds/Xenadd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chrono alarm started blaring again, and he shoved the Zeltron off him as he stood. The back of his neck throbbed as the room spun around him, the skin red hot when he reached up to touch it.</p><p>Kanan and the aftermath of a drunken decision, because pre-Gorse Kanan was a disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding out in the back.

Kanan Jarrus woke with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, a puddle under his cheek and a puddle forming in the small of his back. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, nose wrinkling as he unstuck his tongue. The first puddle was a souring puddle of Old Janx on the table he had apparently passed out on. The second was the result of a very naked Zeltron currently snoring gently into his back. Prising himself up from his uncomfortable position draped half over the arm of a sofa and half on an unsteady table, he saw that he - they - were in one of the small private rooms at the back of the Bora’. A dismal sight to wake up to. Kanan was in a near-identical state of undress, though at least his trousers were somewhere around his knees. Whether that was better or worse, he didn’t know.

The chrono alarm started blaring again, and he shoved the Zeltron off him as he stood. The back of his neck throbbed as the room spun around him, the skin red hot when he reached up to touch it, wasted bacta strips falling loose. Right. He - Horza? No. Hulshz? Hulshz was a biter. Which was normally _great_ but not when he apparently go carried away after they’d worked their way through two - no, three - bottles of Old Janx between them. Hopefully Hulshz had polished off two of the himself. Not every sentient had a liver to spare.

Kanan winced and started pulling his trousers up, sitting back down to pull his boots on, carefully not thinking about who and what and touched that sofa in its long life. Pulling on his left boot, he found something in the way: a crumpled napkin with something scribbled on it. Hulshz threw an arm over his thigh as he shoved the napkin in his pocket. He was _late_.

Untangling the unconscious man from leg, Kanan swept up his armour and blaster and raced out of the room, pulling on his shirt as he went, grunting a farewell. Hulshz responded by pulling his blue hair to cover his face and rolling over.

*

So much for being late. His mark hadn’t even had the decency to show up late, nevermind on time. Kanan scraped his nails across the back of his neck as he hunkered down in the ‘speeder he’d borrowed for the job. Just big enough for for the run, it was entirely nondescript and verging on non-functioning. He’d give it an hour, and then he was gone, pay be damned. He didn’t even know who was after the cargo in the first place - he just had a drop and a cred pick-up. No questions. No loss. 

Kanan dropped his head back, forcing his hands away from his irritated neck and down to his thighs. Damn cantina must be infested again, that’s the third time this month. _Month_. He had been on this rock for too long if he had started seeing patterns in the dives and holes he drifted through. Squinting  through hazy drizzle, there was still nothing to see as he shifted uncomfortably, fingers drumming on his thigh, something crackling under the insistent tattoo. 

Right. The napkin that had been in his boot. Kanan shifted his hips up to pull it out, eyes narrowing in suspicion at what looked like a blood stain on one corner. Turning it over he froze; scribbled black lines from another world crossed and danced across the scrap of white. Recognition rose at the back the mind _so familiar_ , but before it could crystalise his fingers had shredded the napkin and shoved the scraps back into his pocket. He would drop them into the first incinerator he passed

Kanan settled back into his seat, but his heart was pounding now, his breath too fast. _No no it’s nothing_. He started trying to scratch his neck against the ‘speeder headrest - he needed to start sleeping in a _bed_. So distracted by the throbbing _irritant_ of his neck, Kanan nearly missed his mark slipping into the concealed door across the street. 

*

Cargo discretely dropped, and with a pocketful of mysterious creds, Kanan made his way back to the cantina ready to pick up where he left of last night. And the night before that. And the night before that. Once more rubbing at his sore neck, the napkin burning a hole in his pocket, he considered the ever-degrading appeal of this particular rock. If _symbols_ from a world long dead and buried were appearing in his boots, it was definitely past time to be heading on to better and brighter things. Kanan snorted to himself. 

Weaving through the busy streets towards the glowing sign, he considered whether he should see to his neck or his thirst first. No contest. _Drink it is,_ and if it wasn’t strong enough to drown out the pain then it wasn’t worth the creds. He was startled by the sound of his name as he was met by the cantina’s wall of noise. 

‘There you are! Come on, let’s see it!’ Kanan immediately thought of the napkin still shredded in his pocket, one fist flexing and the other falling from his tortured neck to his holster. Turning he saw the the Zeltron from when he woke - now dressed in a conspicuously fitted thinsuit devoid of armour - pushing his way towards Kanan through the post-shift crowd. Horza? Horace? No, Hushz. Kanan forced himself to relax, one hand returning to rub uncomfortably at his neck. Undoubtedly dangerous, the Zeltron was without a doubt a _friend_. Only possibly likely to kill him, which made him Kanan’s closest companion at this moment and as much a threat as anyone else on this rock.

‘Ah, no! Don’t scratch at it, you’ll just ruin it. The bacta only does so much, ya know.’ Kanan stared blankly at Hulshz, who leered good-humouredly at him before taking a hold of the scratching hand and dragging him off. ‘Let’s take a look.’

He steered him towards the nearest ‘fresher, one hand intertwined with Kanan’s, the other shoving already half-drunk locals, ‘hunters and dealers out of the way. Safely ensconced in the fresher, Hulshz’s hips pressed against Kanan’s - ostensibly because of the tight squeeze.

‘You know, there are far more comfortable ways for us to do this?’ Kanan flashed a crooked grin as he moved his hips to match. The Zeltron rolled his eyes before tugging Kanan’s head to look in the mirror so he could glimpse… hard black lines, bold and strong on the back of his neck. Seemingly abstract and fluid, but their core burned into his memory from childhood. Reaching from his hairline to the curve of his spine, inflamed, irritated and burning red but unmistakable. _Jedi_. The napkin. This was his brilliant idea - carving symbols from another life into his neck.

‘ _Fuck.’_

Hulshz laughed low, pulling Kanan closer.

‘You really don’t remember? You humans! You said you could handle anything, I didn’t think you’d completely forget. And you didn’t even scream.’ He set to nibbling along Kanan’s jaw, still laughing to himself as Kanan stared at himself in horror. _What have you done now, Dume._ Mentally he spat as he calculated the quickest route to the port. It was definitely time to move on. Right now. Hulshz’s hips began to move as the air in the small room grew heavy, and Kanan finally dropped his own gaze. 

Soon. Definitely time to move on. Soon. After. He’ll pick up some new shirts on the way to the port; ones with high collars. Very high collars.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://xenadd.tumblr.com/post/123164790815/hiding-out-in-the-back).
> 
> This was originally called ‘Just as fucked up as they say’ from Artificial Nocturne by Metric which is, well, about Kanan. That whole album is. But I got weirdly worried about using that.


End file.
